I dream of building pyramids

of solid stone that

will live forever

gleaming bright and golden

in the desert sun

by the banks of

a wide wide river

muddy and fast and

fierce

passing by farmlands

engorged and green

resting tranquil and lazy

outside of anthills —

cities

busy and close and

living.

I dream of pyramids.

With my hands I

build them

tall and shining.

I dream too that

they fall.